Standin' on th'Wall

On the wall I stall and look down to the ground.
All the people there are looking so fair... what do they wear?
It's hard to see from here, I fear, if they sneer or smile. I'll watch them for a while.
From here I see what we be, but not what we really are.
I see as I saw, as they see, a sight different and incomplete.
From here on the wall I feel a little tall,
but there on the ceiling where the paint is peeling I've got a feeling...
There's a river below sliding slow, though not so slow as a slug I know.
The slug the snail and the letter in the mail, it's all my tale.
The cats in green wear different hats, walking on the same mats.
I wore the same different hat, here where I sat,
so I stood and tossed it down, and saw a bald man stoop down, seeing it was brown, he put it on.
Now there's a man in a brown hat in a sea of green, easily seen if you're looking.
Without reading the news, I didn't think to check their shoes.